Every book I\'ve never written,
All the stories in my head,
All the places never traveled
Every word I\'ve left unsaid.
Oh too simply make it happen!
Without the grueling of the pen.
Still dreaming and not doing
I will try and try again.
Someday many might just read it,
And feel everything i\'ve felt,
But for now i\'ll scribble on
Till too life comes lot i\'ve dealt.
But long live unsung tunes!
Reign on you hidden wealth!
For without them what are we
But dusty books upon the shelf?
Nay, they are the inspiration
And the fortitude to fight!
For without the stories never written
There would be none to write.